Memories From My First Job
The only thing that didn’t happen was actual work.
There once was a time when I worked a less, how shall I say, rewarding job. Like many people, my first venture into the workforce was at a local grocery store. I was sixteen, a sophomore in high school, and looking for money. So, I turned to the “we hire everyone” mentality of the local store. They signed me on as a bag boy — wait, I’m sorry — front service personnel. I’m sure the fancy title was intended to raise the morale among our measly ranks in exchange for paying minimum wage. Fancy title or not, I was now part of the working world.
For three years, I worked pretty hard at not working at all. Most of the time I worked, er, spent at the store, five or so of my friends from school were also on the payroll. We had that store wired. I could walk in that store today and point out which aisles had “dummy” surveillance cameras and which had working ones. I knew the managers’ routines, how much revenue the store made daily, I knew… Now that I think about it, I knew some valuable information should 16-year-old me had less than ideal motives.
Anyway, my friends and I used our knowledge for good, not ill.
Mostly good.
I would start the day by clocking in exactly seven minutes late because the clock-in system was…
